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Once at camp there was a girl. She was the daughter of the woman who ran the snack bar, at least that year in any case. The snack bar was the best place, because it had bottle caps, and grape soda, and chocolate bars, and gigantic pixie sticks, and at night it would grill hamburgers and hot dogs. At that age I thought it was the absolute most perfect place in the world.
I don’t remember the girl’s name. She taught me how to cross my eyes by holding her finger right in front of my nose. When she had to be a tree in a skit she puffed her cheeks out to be silly, and broke up laughing a couple of times. She bought me candy once and the snack bar folks found it funny because they thought I was her boyfriend or something. She showed me the lining in her swimsuit, and I showed her the lining in mine and that’s as far as it went.